


The Package

by chlochlo



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: spies au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-03-17 07:24:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18960601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlochlo/pseuds/chlochlo
Summary: "Don't worry, kids. It won't be anything exciting. I promise."





	1. Chapter 1

It was no secret that the engineers liked to tamper with the shooting range.

A spacious and desolate room to any outsider, the shooting range buzzed to life with holograms of human targets when an approved hand was placed on the scanner located at the entrance. Two types of targets were given, differentiated by their color: “enemy” targets and “civilian” targets. The targets were completely red or green, respectively, for the lower level agents. The indication of whether the target should be eliminated or not grew less and less obvious the more experience an agent got, ultimately being reduced to a single dot on the center of the chest. The goal was to eliminate as many of the enemies as one could.

Without harming a single civilian, of course.

That was the field agents’ goal, at least. The engineers, on the other hand, strived to make the task as difficult as possible. They swapped out the colors to those that were hard to tell apart; they changed the location of the dots. On one occasion, they decided to mess with the opacity of the dots. Many agents were deeply humiliated that day. A handful of them were knocked down to Level 1 and were still working their way back up.

Needless to say, a pile of complaints had landed on Leopold Fitz’s desk the next morning, and now, one smug engineer was sent to the shooting range at 8 o’clock sharp, accompanied by a field agent, to undo any tinkering the cheeky engineers had done over the night. The engineers were a smart and persistent little bunch, however, and continued sneaking down to the basement with an impressive amount of stealth. Just yesterday, one had managed to meddle with the settings in the middle of the afternoon. How he or she had managed to do that while the room was occupied with at least three senior agents no one knew. Even the normally straight-faced director had to bark out a laugh at the antic. 

“ _Welcome, Agent Virtue._ ”

Tessa removed her palm from the scanner as the artificial intelligence’s voice boomed out of the speakers. Images of several weaponry flashed on the screen. She tapped on the gun and stretched the sides of her neck as the room darkened. 

“ _Targets marked with a green dot represent enemy combatants; targets with a red dot represent civilians. Your task is to eliminate as many of the enemy combatants as you can whilst minimizing the number of civilian casualties. Good luck._ ”

Tessa snorted. A simple switch-a-roo of the default colors was not the challenge she had hauled herself out of bed at 4 in the morning for. Nonetheless, she twirled the gun around in her hand and took a deep breath as a high pitched beep rung in her ears once, then twice. Tessa’s eyes flew open in time with the last beep.

The holograms came at her from all angles, each one with a small but clear green or red dot in the middle of their foreheads. Tessa had to admit she had gotten accustomed to the color red being associated with _danger_ or _enemy_ over the past couple of months, but as she surged forward towards the first target, she reminded herself of another common association of the color so as to keep her mind focused: _stop_.

Soon, she found herself dancing around the room, ducking and weaving between the holograms. Keeping her gun up and ready to fire at all times, she shot with precision the instant she spotted the mark on the hologram’s forehead.

_Green. Red. Red. Green. Green. Green. Red. Red. Red. Green._

As she spun around to fire a shot at a target that had charged towards her from behind, she spotted a hologram in the distance with an unmistakable green dot on the forehead. At the same time, another target materialized to her left and swung a knife at her neck. She fired at the hologram in the distance while ducking neatly.

It wasn’t until the shot had been fired that she realized that the target had a child in its arms. Tessa scrambled upright, eyes wide and ears ringing, and stared as the bullet pierced through the child’s back. Both holograms shattered.

A knife passed through her midsection as the high pitched beep echoed throughout the room once more. The lights flickered back on in an instant, and the holograms that were surrounding her disappeared. Her heart thumping against her chest, Tessa wrapped her fingers around the gun tightly and fought to keep her hands from trembling. 

“Had trouble sleeping?”

At the presence of another agent in the room, Tessa snapped out of her light trance, masking her expression so as to hide the horror that had coursed through her veins mere seconds ago. Exhaling slowly, she turned around. Agent Dubreuil closed the gap between them with a few confident strides. 

“Just wanted an extra challenge,” Tessa responded. 

Agent Dubreuil hummed, studying Tessa’s face thoughtfully. “It seems like the engineers let you off easy this morning. You must have been disappointed, although--” she looked around at the room, a knowing smile dancing on her lips -- “even in a simulation, not everything is black and white, is it?” She held out a manila folder with one hand and beckoned for Tessa to hand over the gun with the other. “Let’s trade, shall we?” 

“Pardon?”

Agent Dubreuil took the gun and pressed the folder into Tessa’s palm. “Congratulations, Agent Virtue. You’re being sent into the field. An entire month earlier than expected, might I add.” 

_An early promotion?_ To her knowledge, there were no requests for additional support from any of the active missions, which meant she was either going undercover or being sent out on a new mission. The former was highly unlikely -- she had been recruited not long ago and subterfuge was not really her thing. A new mission must have come up, she reasoned. An absurdly easy one, probably. Either that or one that no one wanted to go on. Tessa brushed that second thought out of her mind. 

Agent Dubreuil laughed, presumably at the look on Tessa’s face. “Go,” she said fondly. “You don’t want to get left behind on your first mission.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, there you are, Agent Virtue,” Dr. Simmons chirped the instant Tessa walked into Medical. She was a pleasant woman with her brown hair pulled up in a neat ponytail and a genuine smile that reached her eyes. There was already a black pen in her hand. She gestured for Tessa to hand the file over to her. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Tessa had no idea why those words alarmed her so much.

They were waiting for her at Armory as well, a stout man greeting her with way too much enthusiasm for seven in the morning. Tessa held out her folder. His shoulders shook as he laughed. “Everything’s already been laid out for you out in the back.” At Tessa’s puzzled expression, he shrugged. “They told us you’d be coming.”

Everything really had been laid out for her, the uniform, combat boots, and weapons all piled up neatly on a bench at the very back of the room. She scrambled into her uniform and was wrangling on her boots when the door creaked open. 

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?”

Tessa smirked at the familiar tone. “Eric.” She then raised her eyebrows at the considerably shorter man standing next to him. “They’re sending you out too, Chiddy?”

Patrick Chan nodded, his chest puffed out in pride. Recruited around the same time she was, the man looked far too young to be anywhere near any sort of weaponry, but he was nimble and outshone many larger agents in combat training on more than one occasion. “Wasn’t expecting to be sent out for another three months or so, but it was a nice surprise.”

“Can’t believe they’re sending me in with two rookies,” Eric grumbled good-naturedly.

Tessa tugged on her laces one last time. Swinging her duffle bag over her shoulder, she asked, “What do you think it is? The thing we’re picking up.” 

She’d skimmed the contents of her file in the elevator, though not much detail was provided in her packet, as was expected. They were going to be dropped off at Bucharest, where a package would be awaiting them. Upon loading it onto the jet, they were to make sure said package was brought back safely to headquarters. 

“Could be anything, I suppose. Maybe a hammer.”

“Is that some locker room euphemism?”

“Why would that be a euphemism?”

“Why would we pick up a hammer?” 

“Why not? Could be a magical hammer.” 

Chiddy and Tessa shared a look, his one of worry and hers one of exasperation. Eric rolled his eyes. 

“It won’t be anything worth fretting over, Virtue. We’ll get there, and we’ll be greeted by a box about… that big.” He pointed at one of the metal cases stacked against the wall. “What’s enclosed might be dangerous, but the scientists will have already taken care of it by the time we get there.” 

Chiddy and Tessa exchanged another look. Eric chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, kids. It won’t be anything exciting. I promise.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Said package was not a hammer. 

It was also not in a black, locked box, though Tessa didn’t think it being encased in one would have made the situation any better.

“Good afternoon, agents,” Agent Scott Moir greeted as he made his way into the jet. His eyes flickered between Chiddy and Tessa before settling on Eric. “You draw the short straw, Radford? How’d you end up babysitting two rookies? Oh, and you can put your guns away, by the way. Kid’s not gonna bite.” 

“Pretty sure I was the only straw,” Eric stated very matter-of-factly. He tightened his grip on his gun. “And I can see why.”

Agent Moir stopped directly in front of Eric. His jaw clenched, his eyes bore into those of Eric’s. The two proceeded to have an intense staring contest -- one that Tessa thinks Agent Moir would’ve won, had it not been for the “package” standing two feet behind him. 

“Lower your weapons,” Agent Moir sighed. 

Chiddy started to lower his Glock, but Tessa didn’t dare move. Not when Hostile Number fucking One was standing within arms reach. In person, she was smaller than Tessa expected her to be, more so because of the scarf bundled around her neck. It hardly mattered, though. There wasn’t a single agent that hadn’t seen the footage of what the… _kid_ , as Agent Moir kept calling her, had accomplished in Monte-Carlo.

And Macau.

And Manama.

“That is an order,” Agent Moir stated. This time, he was looking directly at Tessa. She lowered her gun, albeit reluctantly. “ _Thank you_. Let’s get going now. I don’t want to miss Taco Tuesday.” 

Osmond looked nothing like the seasoned assassin Tessa had seen in the video footages. She looked like someone that could easily pass as an undergraduate student -- maybe even a high school senior. All she had on was a hoodie, the front pocket which she had her hands tucked into, and black jeans that made the lower half of her body practically disappear. Hazel eyes floated above the knitted scarf she had wrapped around her neck. Her hair, wavy and a rich chocolate brown, was put in a high ponytail. It swayed from side to side as she passed the three stiff agents, much like the tail of a sly feline. 

Apparently, Moir thought Osmond was more of a Toy Poodle than a Persian, because he pointed at a seat and said, “Sit.” When Osmond plopped down into the seat, he added a, “Stay.” 

If Osmond weren’t so high on every government agency’s threat list, Tessa might’ve thought he’d said it just to get under the assassin’s skin. 

“Good,” Moir beamed. He turned to the other agents, all of whom were still standing with one hand on their guns. “You guys keep an eye on her, alright? I’m going to pop up front, hang out in the co-pilot seat, see if I can spot any clouds in the shape of bunnies and all that.” 

And just like that, he left two rookies and a junior agent alone with Kaetlyn Osmond.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sit down, will you?” Eric muttered about an hour and a half into the flight. He and Chiddy were practically cuddling in the two seats furthest from Osmond. If you looked closely enough, you could see that they were quite literally shivering in fear. Judging from the quirk in Osmond’s mouth, it seemed that the behavior of the two grown men amused her. 

Not taking her eyes off of the younger woman, Tessa lowered herself into the seat directly across from the assassin. She planted both feet firmly on the ground and sat up straight. Every single fiber in her body was tensed. There was probably a bullet point in some senior agents’ lecture material that stated that the correct thing to do in this scenario would be to relax: to fool the opponent into thinking you were not feeling threatened at all. But manuals and protocols had gotten thrown out the window the instant Moir had waltzed onto the jet like he’d brought Osmond in for Show-and-Tell. So Tessa maintained her stiff posture and even lifted her chin up a little higher whenever Osmond’s eyes landed on her.

Osmond, on the other hand, was curled up in a ball. Her legs were tucked up against her chest, held in place by her arms. With her chin rested on her knees, she stared at each of them, giving each of them the equal amount of unwanted attention.

Her eyeballs did most of the work. Chiddy and Eric’s heads were busy, however, turning at all sorts of odd angles to avoid making eye-contact with Osmond. Meanwhile, Tessa stared right back and didn’t miss the way Osmond’s head cocked to the side ever so slightly whenever their eyes locked. 

“Everyone still alive back there?” Moir asked over the comms. 

The static sound that had preceded his voice startled Tessa. Her hand landed on her gun. Osmond’s gaze did as well. 

“You guys alright?” 

Tessa dragged her hand back onto her lap, taking Osmond’s gaze with it. 

“Agent Virtue,” Moir called. “Everything alright?” A hint of panic was laced underneath the command. Kid’s not gonna bite? Yeah, right. “Tessa?” 

Osmond cocked her head to the side again. Tessa resisted the urge to glare at the cockpit.

“Everything is just peachy back here, _sir_.”

“Fantastic. Anyone have any new gossip they want to share? None of us are going to get any sleep anyways, so we might as well socialize, right? What’d I miss out on while I was gone on my wild goose chase?”

None of them answered. 

“Nothing? We’re just going to sit in silence for the remainder of the flight?” 

Once again, none of them answered. 

“Well, that’s a waste of time, and we all know how Agent Virtue feels about those.” Tessa rolled her eyes. He hummed a little tune before snapping his fingers. “Hey, how many items back there do you reckon Osmond could use to kill the three of you?”

Chiddy gulped, but he scanned the jet nonetheless, noting every item that was not bolted down and considering those that were. Eric kept his eyes on the floor, though his lips and fingers gave his counting away. 

“Well?” Moir asked through the comms. “Any guesses?”

“Twenty… twenty… f--six, maybe?” Chiddy said. 

“Not even close, but I give you an A+ for effort, Chan. Of course, effort’s not going to come and save your ass when Osmond’s choking the life out of you, but still. Good try.” 

Osmond rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath before tipping her head back to rest against the headrest of her seat. Her eyes snapped shut. 

“You’ve got a sadistic sense of humor, sir,” Tessa spat out, her eyes still glued on the sleeping assassin. She could swear she saw the woman fight back a smirk at Tessa’s statement. 

“Thank you for your evaluation, Agent Virtue. Would you like to go next? Or are you so confident in Radford’s inability to count that you’re willing to go last?” 

From across the jet, Osmond shifted to make herself more comfortable. Her eyes were still closed, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. 

It was a calculated gesture, of course.

“Counting is a waste of my time and effort,” Tessa stated wryly. “Doesn’t matter if there’s one or a hundred items she could use; she wouldn’t need any -- wouldn’t use any,” An unmistakable tug on the corner of Osmond’s lips prompted her to continue. “She’d go for Radford first -- take him down with a jab to the abdomen and a kick to the back of his knees. Depending on how fast Chan’s coming at her, she’d either knock Radford unconscious or snap his neck before moving on to Chan. Taking care of him should be a walk in the park --”

“Hey!” Chiddy objected. 

Tessa ignored him. “-- and finally, she would try to attack me using the switchblade in her left boot she thinks we’ve got no clue about. Of course, I’d put a bullet in her head before she’d get a chance to get it out.”

There was a definite smirk on Osmond’s lips now, though her eyes remained shut. 

“Ok. First of all, I can put up a pretty good fight, thank you very much,” Chiddy scoffed without much offense in his voice. “Secondly, why wouldn’t she just go for you first? Or me, since I’m supposedly the easiest to take out?” 

Tessa leaned back in her seat. She crossed her arms across her chest. “Too predictable,” she shrugged. “You’d expect her to go for the other woman -- or the smallest man, at the very least -- since she doesn’t know how we fight. Going after Radford’s the best she can do with what she’s got.”

Osmond’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked at the ceiling for a bit before slowly angling her head so that she was looking straight ahead. She stared at Tessa long enough for Tessa to have to add an extra dose of effort to her already fragile feigned composure. Eventually, Osmond’s hand slithered down the side of her calf. When a switchblade emerged from the black leather boots, Tessa drew her gun and clicked the safety off. But all Osmond did was drop it to the ground and use the front tip of her shoe to skid it across the floor. It bumped against Tessa’s boot.

“Wrong side.” Osmond hugged her legs, buried her nose in the crook of her arm, and closed her eyes again.

Tessa clicked the safety back on and put her Glock away. She bent down, ignoring the way her stomach churned as she did so, and snatched the knife off of the ground. Bile rose up her throat. 

She’d been bluffing the entire time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all of the lovely comments and kudos you left on the previous chapter! The comments were a joy to read <3

After returning from Bucharest, Tessa was, surprisingly, given a day off. Granted, it was spent throwing her belongings into a cardboard box and hauling it up three flights of stairs, but still. Anything was better than nothing.

Her apartment was within sprinting distance of headquarters. Examining her surroundings as she pulled her car up to the dull building, she realized she might still feel as though she was chained to work on her days off. It was better than her days at Operations, though. Back then, there’d been a literal ten steps between her dorm and the nearest lecture hall. 

A large purple suitcase as well as a smaller maroon one greeted her when she entered her new home. There was a duffel bag tossed onto the couch too, a red McGill sweatshirt draped over it. Several weathered paperbacks and sturdier journals were stacked on top of one another. They formed a literary Leaning Tower of Pisa. 

The entire thing just screamed Communications. 

Tessa strode past the neatly disorganized pile into the kitchen. Her flatmate had brought a coffee maker, thank heavens, and from the looks of it, it appeared to be a pretty darn expensive one. Brand new, too. She’d also left a note tacked right in front of it too, as if she knew that’s where Tessa’s eyes would be drawn first.

Sometimes, Communications didn’t get the credit they deserved.

_Dear housemate,_

_I’ve run down the street to stock up on some cheap wine and high-quality chocolate. Feel free to take the master bedroom. I have a feeling you’ll be needing the en-suite bathroom way more than I will anyways :)_

_See you soon!  
Lilah_

Lilah returned from the store just as Tessa finished arranging her makeup on the dresser next to her bed. An easy smile on her face and her wavy hair flowing just till her shoulders, Lilah took one look at Tessa and declared, “My god, you’re gorgeous. Thank god you’re from Operations, because I don’t think I’d be able to fend off all of your secret admirers on my own. Also, here’s the most comprehensive first-aid kit I could find. Please don’t tell me you’re one of those masochists that refuse to go to the infirmary unless you’re bleeding out and borderline unconscious. I’m not particular keen on making Operations folks do things against their will, but I will if I have to.”

And that’s how Lilah from Communications had Tessa in the palm of her hands within five minutes of the two meeting each other. 

Upon settling in, Tessa’s time as a full agent flew by in a flurry of cargo bays, patrols, and briefing rooms. Agent Moir was given the duty of evaluating the first couple of missions Tessa went on and made a point to note that she seemed to possess a detached nature at times, especially when it came down to her interpersonal relationships with her fellow agents.

That irked her more than it should have. 

“He’s worked with Osmond, for fuck’s sakes,” Tessa complained the evening she got to see her redacted evaluation report. 

Lilah poured her a glass of wine. “Don’t let it get to you,” she said. “Some co-workers become good friends outside of work, others don’t. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to keep things professional, especially when your co-workers are constantly being kidnapped and interrogated by your enemies.” She popped a chocolate covered almond into her mouth. 

Tessa narrowed her eyes at Lilah playfully. “Have you been binge-watching bad spy movies again?”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Lilah scoffed. 

Somewhere beneath the bars of black ink, however, Moir must have stated that Tessa’s combat skills made up for her supposed lack of empathy. She was popular to have on missions, particularly ones where dancing was involved. An odd thing for all of her missions to have in common, but no one was more knowledgeable in ballet and more fluid on the ballroom floor than Tessa Virtue. It came in handy in missions involving upper-class European men. Her former dance instructors would’ve been proud. 

But her missions didn’t always involve sparkly dresses and five-star accomodations. Every once in a while, she found herself slobbered in sweat, cuddling an agent she barely knew for body heat, or bobbing up and down in the middle of the goddamn ocean. 

It was usually Moir that took her along on those types of missions. What a coincidence. 

On her off-days, Tessa simply filled her spare time with continuing education courses. She had learned in a recent mission in Bordeaux that her French skills were sorely lacking and sought to rectify that status as soon as she could. Any other spare time she had was spent in the training rooms, where she honed her combat skills and tackled any challenges the agency sent hurling her way. Once in a blue moon, she made her way down to the bar at Moir’s pestering or went out hunting for the best red velvet cupcake in town with Lilah. 

“Contrary to popular belief,” Lilah pointed out on several occasions, “you’re not a robot. You need to unwind sometimes -- have a bit of fun.”

Tessa licked the cream cheese frosting off of her lips. “Did you and Moir plan this out? Because he said the exact same thing to me the other day.” 

“Oh, good. Two people nagging you is better than one.”

Occasionally, Tessa crossed paths with Osmond. Tessa tended to operate on teams; Osmond operated alone. While Tessa was the type to blend in and follow a strict plan complete with back-up plans A through Z, Osmond sparkled under the spotlight, where she could improvise and mess with the minds of her marks like they were made of playdough all on her lonesome. 

It had been months since Moir brought Osmond in, and while no one was foolish enough to room with her, she’d been living on base long enough such that everyone knew her. 

Knew _of_ her. No one actually _knew_ Kaetlyn Osmond, other than Moir, perhaps, but that was only because he was a lunatic.

However, there was one thing Tessa knew with absolute certainty: Osmond didn’t like her. 

Oh, Osmond was nice enough to everyone, alright. Tessa spotted her eating with other agents in the cafeteria, smiling politely at the latest gossip circling headquarters and making small talk when prompted, and her fluidity on the dance floor rivaled that of Tessa’s, or so Tessa heard. Towards Tessa, however, Osmond offered no more than a stiff nod and a scrutinizing scan.

It was all mildly unsettling. Tessa had made peace with the fact that not everyone would like her during her teenage years, but to be disliked by one of the world’s top assassins? That was something else entirely.

Tessa brought up the issue once, right before a mission briefing. Osmond was being sent on an op to Singapore, and Tessa’s team was to back her up. It was unconventional for Osmond to have so many agents watching her back, but no one wanted to make a mess of things in Singapore and get on their bad side. 

“Should I be worried?” Tessa asked, feigning nonchalance by flipping open the folder she’d gotten earlier that day.

Moir took a handful of trail mix and chucked it into his mouth. “About what?” he said in between crunches. 

She glanced across the room, where Osmond was flipping through an intel binder. Moir arched an eyebrow. Tessa sighed. 

“She isn’t very fond of me.” When the confusion didn’t leave Moir’s face, Tessa sighed again. Apparently, the two could achieve better communication out in the field, where the longest sentence uttered over comms by either of them were three words, than when they spoke to each other in person. “Osmond.”

“That’s not true.”

This time, it was Tessa who raised an eyebrow. Moir took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. Humming to himself, he did a quick scan of her body. A highly inconvenient blush began creeping up her cheeks. She picked up her mug and let the disgusting coffee touch her lips. 

“I mean,” he started, “you’re still alive, aren’t you?” 

“That’s very helpful, Moir. Thank you for that.”

He grinned and snatched another handful of almonds. He opened his mouth and popped one in his mouth, but closed it and frowned afterwards instead of tossing the rest in. Resting his weight on his hands, he leaned across the table towards her. “Hey,” he said, his voice going soft and void of teasing, “if you’re not comfortable going, you don’t have to. Bukin and I can cover her.” 

Osmond closed the binder she was engrossed in earlier and reached across the table for another one. She’d probably overheard the entire conversation, or at least overread it -- she was an excellent lipreader. Tessa wasn’t sure whether she should be embarrassed or just plain annoyed. 

“Nevermind,” Tessa huffed.

“Are you sure? If there’s something bothering you, now’s the time to speak up, kiddo.”

Tessa glared at him. Fortunately, he got the memo and dropped the subject. He picked out a Kit-Kat bar from the stash of chocolate and wandered over to where Osmond was. 

“Having fun, Katie-Kate?” He dropped the Kit-Kat bar onto her lap. “You must be. I haven’t seen you this focused since I caught you reading _The Notebook_ the other day.” 

The Kit-Kat bar smacked him in the middle of his forehead. Without looking up, Osmond said, “Your bullets tend to drift to the right when you are under pressure. It’ll get you killed one day.” 

It took a moment for Tessa to register that Osmond was speaking to her. Tessa waited for Osmond to continue, but that’s all she had to say, apparently. “Right. Thanks.” 

A week later, something she’d read in that binder ended up saving Tessa’s life; fifteen days after that, Tessa was sitting in the infirmary with a graze rather than a bullet lodged to her chest because her bullet _hadn’t_ drifted to the right. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Osmond walking past the infirmary. The look on Osmond’s face was blank, but the assassin did offer a small nod, which Tessa found herself returning as the other woman round the corner and disappeared. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It was entirely my fault, really.” Lilah winced as a nurse put pressure on her wound. “Should’ve taken combat training more seriously.”

Not long after Singapore, Tessa had been pulled from her team and relocated temporarily to California, where a temporary outpost had been set up in wake of the largest natural disaster of the year -- hopefully of the century. She’d been sorely out of her element amongst firefighters and natural disaster response groups, but she was given a command position and it was a job that needed as many hands on deck as possible, so she worked through the abysmal air quality with as positive of an attitude as she could muster. 

Of course, Lilah had decided she was going to go into the field for the first time during those few weeks Tessa was away. Tessa had already been summoned back to headquarters to take over for Marie, who was going on maternity leave soon, but she flew back earlier than she was supposed to as soon as she heard that the mission Lilah had gone on had gone south. 

“Wasn’t Moir’s team there to cover you?” 

“They were. And they did. It’s my fault that I didn’t get up fast enough. I froze.” Lilah took one look at Tessa and rolled her eyes. “Stop blaming yourself.”

“I should’ve--”

“Stop,” Lilah said pointedly. “You’re not my babysitter, you know.” Whoever said Communications folks couldn’t be intimidating clearly had never met Lilah Fear before. She then poked her head around to address Dr. Simmons. “Dr. Simmons, I honestly don’t think stitches are necessary..”

Dr. Simmons smiled brightly. “Right. So I gather you got your medical degree since the last time I saw you, then?”

Lilah groaned. “Don’t go easy on the newbies, Tess. Especially if they’re not from Operations.”

And that’s exactly what Tessa did. 

“Again,” she commanded the instant the trainees’ backs thumped against the mat. Most of them were from Sci-Tech and were probably going to be in greater risk of getting bitten by a lab rat than getting roped into a combat environment, but Tessa was determined to make sure every agent trained by her was going to be able to defend themselves if necessary and maybe throw in a few good punches while doing so. 

Grunts and thumps echoed throughout the training room once again. Tessa observed each pair carefully. Half of them were just lying there, eyes squeezed shut in frustration and limbs sprawled out, clearly without any intention of clambering back up. “Again.”

There were grumbles and glares. She ignored them. It was better they resent her here and now than get killed because they couldn’t get up after a fall out in the field. They fell again like dominos, and Tessa was tempted to make them do it again just because she knew a handful of them were not giving it their all. Combat training was like that annoying elective they had to take in college in order to graduate for them. But enough of them looked like they were either going to throw up or pass out that Tessa barked at them to go and take a water break. 

Once they were back looking somewhat put together again, Tessa led them to one of the boxing rings in the gym. They were going to be working on Muay Thai today. It wasn’t a strength of Tessa’s, but it was a martial art known for its raw simplicity. Simple yet highly effective was exactly what these trainees needed. 

Tessa slipped between the ropes of the boxing ring. “Any volunteers?” 

Had her trainees come from more diverse backgrounds, there would’ve been at least one cocky Operations guy that stepped up even before being asked just to show off. Unfortunately, Tessa’s batch was composed of 90% Sci-Tech and 10% Communications. 

“Medvedeva?” God, her name was a mouthful. The Russian’s eyes grew wide and frantic as they shot Tessa a pleading look. “Fine,” Tessa sighed. As she scanned the group, she heard a string of Russian curse words followed by the all too familiar sound of a person being slammed on his back. Mere seconds later, Osmond emerged from the other boxing ring, followed closely by Bukin, who looked far too happy for someone who’d just gotten beaten up. Moir was there, too, slurping on an energy drink of some sort. 

“Hey, Virtch!” Moir hollered, waving comically. Tessa’s face grew hot as her class did an atrocious job of stifling their laughter. It was the latest canteen gossip apparently, the two of them being a ‘thing.’ The snickering came to an abrupt halt when Osmond’s eyes landed on the group of newbies. 

That was another persistent canteen gossip. Those that had been around Osmond for a while liked her well enough, but those that had just graduated from the Academy had heard the most bizarre and not necessarily untrue rumors about the assassin. The trainees were terrified of her, which maybe they should be, but not to this degree. Not when there might be a day they needed to trust her with their lives.

“Hey, Osmond?”

Osmond was drinking from her water bottle, but one of her eyebrows went up in a subtle acknowledgement that she had heard Tessa. 

“Could you please help me demonstrate a move?”

Osmond cocked her head to the side again, just like she did on the jet that first time they met. A blank look on her face, she blinked once, then twice. “Me?”

“Yes.” The word came out more like a question than a statement. Tessa cleared her throat. “I think it would be good for them to see a proper demonstration.”

“Proper demonstration, eh?” Moir materialized at her side, grinning as his teeth chewed on the straw of his water bottle. “You wanted a proper demonstration, and you asked Kaetlyn instead of me? That hurts, Virtch.” 

Tessa rolled her eyes. Laughing, he clapped her on the back and headed for the men’s locker room with Bukin. On his way, he mumbled something in Osmond’s ear. She looked mildly irritated at whatever it was he had to say but nodded nevertheless. Slipping her shoes off, she stepped into the ring, her silence making a bolder statement than any combination of words could have. 

“So,” she said, “what is it that you are trying to demonstrate?” 

Tessa narrowed her eyes at Osmond. The three agents had been in the training room even before Tessa and her class had entered. Tessa couldn’t figure out if Osmond was asking out of sheer politeness or if she had some ulterior motive. Nonetheless, she explained the move she wanted to demonstrate and took a step back. 

Rolling her shoulders back, Tessa asked, “You good?” 

She didn’t seem like she was, her eyes scanning the trainees and posture relaxed with her weight on her left leg, but Osmond gave a slight shrug of her shoulder. 

“Alright, then,” Tessa mumbled. She rushed forward to strike out at Osmond.

In hindsight, she should’ve chosen Moir. She barely had time to register the blur of brown, grey, and black whisking around to face her before a punch was being thrown in her face. Tessa blocked it but just barely. While Osmond shoved their arms to the side, Tessa swiveled on her right leg and aimed a kick at Osmond’s ribcage. Osmond caught the leg using the inside of her arm and pushed Tessa back. When Tessa stumbled, Osmond did an illusion turn, locking Tessa’s head in her leg, grabbing a wrist, and twisting as she got back up.

Tessa was sent hurling through the air in an instant. It was by pure instinct that she tucked her head in and crashed into the mat on her back. 

Heaven knows what would’ve happened had she toppled forwards. 

For a split second, her vision went white and it felt as though every bone in her body was on fire -- her wrist, her ribs, her ankle, everything. As the world readjusted into a mingle of colors and black splotches, Tessa spotted Medvedeva scrambling into the ring, the terrified and unsure girl from five minutes prior non-existent. A flash of surprise crossed Osmond’s face when Medvedeva shoved Osmond away. Tessa made a mental note to herself to buy her student a nice Christmas present this year. 

“Jesus, Kaet,” Tessa heard as she rolled onto her side. A pair of dark socks hurried towards her. “What the _fuck_ was that for?” Calloused fingers swept her hair out of the way, and a pair of concerned hazel eyes emerged. “Are you ok?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she hissed. She tried to shudder off the hand he’d placed on her shoulder, but pain and humiliation surged through her body at the action. “I’m fine. Get your hands off of me.” 

Moir’s jaw clenched. Hesitantly, he let her slump onto the ground once more and stood up slowly. He was normally an even-tempered person, but from the harsh sounds of his breathing, it was clear that he was _pissed_.

“Osmond,” he said. “Seriously, what the _fuck_ did you do that for?” 

Osmond shot them both an utmost unimpressed look before leaping out of the ring.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovely readers!
> 
> I just wanted to thank you all for all of the love and support you have showered this story with so far! Every kudos and comment means so much to me, and I truly appreciate the time you guys take to read this story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

It took three hours, two pauses in the middle of the hallway to breathe through the searing pain in her ribs, and one thorough scavenger hunt for pain killers in her office for Tessa to swallow her pride and growl at the poor elevator to take her down to the infirmary. When the doors slid open, Joannie was waiting for her with a wheelchair, looking more amused than worried that one of her oldest friends from the Academy was limping her way into the infirmary.

“The sun must’ve risen in the West today,” Joannie remarked. “You usually don’t end up here unless you’re on the stairway to Heaven.”

Tessa waved the wheelchair Joannie was bringing over away. She was drenched in enough shame to last her a lifetime, thank you very much. “Yeah, well it seems like today is a day of firsts.”

Since it was a day of firsts, Tessa confessed that her ribs might be broken, that her ankle is definitely sprained, and that something funky was going on with her wrist without much prodding. If Joannie was at all surprised by the sheer number of injuries Tessa had sustained, she certainly didn’t let it show. However, she did insist that Tessa be wheeled down the hallway to get her X-rays taken. It felt like a walk of shame, almost, but none of the medical staff paid much attention to her. In fact for a blissful half an hour, Tessa lived in a bubble where rumors about her getting her ass beaten by Osmond in front of her students were not trickling throughout headquarters. 

Oh, how beautiful those thirty minutes were.

“We’ll need to wrap your ankle and wrist up,” Joannie informed Tessa once the doctor returned after tending to another patient. “But good news is, your ribs are bruised -- not broken.” 

Before Tessa could breathe a sigh of relief, Joannie added, “We’ll still need to take you off of the field roster, though. Not that it’s likely you’d be sent out any time soon. Agent Dubreuil is still on maternity leave, isn’t she?”

That dampened any good mood Tessa had left in her system. She strived to be, if not the best, at her her personal best at all times. Sure, she was only human and was bound to get injured and ill from time to time, but being pulled from the field roster for an injury sustained during a demonstration? That was just humiliating.

“You know,” Joannie continued, swiping through the x-ray images, “all in all, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” Tessa shot the doctor a look. An apologetic smile was returned. “Sorry. Gossip spreads like wildfire around here.”

“And here I was, thinking you guys were too busy gazing at your lab rats to have time to gossip with other humans,” Tessa said wryly.

“You’d think.” Joannie pulled her stylus from the side of her tablet. “Do I need to send the prescription directly to the pharmacy and have them send you reminders on every electronic device you own till you go?”

“Do you think the wildfire has reached the pharmacy?” 

“I doubt it.”

“Then I will gladly take the paper down myself.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’d the cherry tomato ever do to you?” 

Tessa looked up from her salad just in time to catch Lilah sliding into the seat across from her. It was odd for Tessa to see her normally pajama-clad, barefaced roommate dressed in a blazer and pencil skirt, her lips coated in a thin layer of lip gloss and her lanyard hanging from her neck. The two rarely ran into each other at headquarters. 

Tessa stabbed the stubborn tomato again. It slid away. Huffing, she picked it up with her fingers and popped it in her mouth.

Lilah winced. “Bad day?” Her fingers ghosted over Tessa’s wrapped up wrist. “I was hoping the rumors weren’t true.”

“Which one? That it took thirty seconds for me to get my ass handed to me, or that Osmond is a psychopath?” 

“Both.” Lilah nodded her head toward the orange bottle sitting by Tessa’s cup. “Have you taken any yet?” 

Tessa shook her head. Truth is, she’d shoved the medication in her pocket as soon as she’d snatched it up from the counter with every intention of heading straight to the bar and buying herself a well deserved glass of Margarita. Unfortunately, the bar was bustling with off-shift agents knocking down a glass of beer after lunch. Her foul mood would probably have been more than enough to barricade herself from the rowdy agents, but she’d spotted Moir amongst the crowd, which meant that Osmond was there somewhere, and _that_ was something Tessa didn’t want to deal with.

Lilah sprung up. “Come on,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I know just what you need to cheer you up.”

“I highly doubt it” is what Tessa would’ve grumbled had Lilah given her a chance to do so. But before she knew it, her roommate was chucking her unappetizing salad into the waste bin and dragging her down to the underground train. 

Built as a convenient mode of transportation between headquarters and the Academy, the train was relatively empty at three in the afternoon. It was seldom used, only the select students that interned at headquarters and a handful of senior agents that taught special lectures at the Academy using it regularly. Tessa herself had never found the need to use the underground train. Lilah, on the other hand, seemed to have the order of the stops memorized: Headquarters, Operations, Communications, then, last but not least, Sci-Tech.

They weren’t the only ones that got off at Communications, which wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was that she, Lilah, and the three agents that boarded at headquarters and hopped off at Communications were all making a beeline for an office that looked like it had been last used during the second World War.

“No way,” Tessa mumbled as the other agents yanked a dusty file cabinet to reveal a relatively modern looking elevator. 

“What, you thought you guys were the only ones who had a secret party spot?” Lilah rolled her eyes and shared an exasperated look with the other agents on board. “We’re not as boring as you guys make us out to be, you know.” 

Tessa took in the ‘secret party spot’ that lay before her. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Yeah, I guess you guys aren’t.”

Unlike the hidden bar where the kids from Operations hung out, the ‘secret party space’ in the Communications building was overflowing with good vibes. The music was upbeat, strobes of colorful neon lights were bouncing off of the walls, and smack dab in the middle of it all was a small, but certain, rollerblading rink. 

A fucking rollerblading rink. Operations needed to up their game. 

“Impressed?” Lilah laughed. “Don’t feel bad. We just have more alumni pitching in on the cost of running this place. The bar at headquarters is constantly overrun by Operations folks, you know. It can get a bit intimidating. I heard that Sci-Tech’s got a really fancy one as well with magical cocktails perfected by Nobel prize winning chemists, but you’ve got to solve a really difficult math problem to be admitted. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a robotic Sphinx erected in front of their entrance.”

Lilah linked her arms through Tessa’s and guided her stunned roommate towards the booth furthest from the entrance. A mini tablet was attached to the table. Lilah swiped through the menu and minutes later, someone zoomed over on a hoverboard and placed a cone of french fries on their table, along with several condiments. As if that wasn’t impressive enough, he returned mere seconds after that with their drinks. How he managed not to spill a single drop on his way over, Tessa had no clue.

Lilah slid the Margarita towards Tessa. “So,” she smothered a french fry in barbecue sauce and bit off the end delicately, “what exactly went down between you and Agent Osmond?”

Tessa could swear the aching in her ribs intensified at the mention of Osmond’s name. “What more is there to say? Seems to me like everyone else has already done the speaking for me.”

Lilah’s eyebrows furrowed. She plucked another fry out of the cone, dipping it in ketchup this time. “So, Agent Osmond was hitting on Agent Moir while they were sparring, and you got jealous, so you called her over to teach her a lesson?”

“Wh-- _no_.” Tessa drained her glass of Margarita. The buzzing of a hoverboard reached Tessa’s ears the same time she set her glass down. She snatched the drink up immediately. 

“Thank you,” Lilah smiled on Tessa’s behalf. She motioned for Tessa to have some fries along with her drink. “So? What really happened?”

Tessa jabbed on the tablet to order herself another drink. “First of all,” she started, “Osmond was sparring with _Bukin_ \-- not Moir.”

Lilah forbade Tessa from ordering any more alcohol after her third Margarita, but the two did manage to polish off the rest of the fries and make the decision to split a Monte Cristo by the time Tessa was nearing the end of her story.

“And then Moir whipped around to face the trainees and went all--” Tessa cleared her throat and put on her best imitation of a drill sergeant--“ _What are you doing just standing there? Pair up, put on your gloves, and start practicing your blocking! Come on, move it!_ ”

Lilah gasped and leaned forward, bracing her weight on her forearms. “He did not.”

“Did too. Scared the shit out them. Scared the shit out of _me_.”

“What happened then?”

Tessa leaned back in her seat. The alcohol was coursing through her body in the most delicious manner. “Pulled the ‘be honest’ card on me, then gave me the whole ‘asking for help is not a weakness’ lecture and all that. Typical Scott Moir.”

“Is it?” 

Lilah startled at the voice, but Tessa managed to keep her composure as Osmond approached their table. With the fluidity of someone that had been here before, Osmond charged the food and drinks on her card. 

“I was on his team on no less than twenty missions,” Tessa stated. 

Osmond quirked her eyebrow as if to say _So?_ It really made Tessa want to punch her in the face.

“Could you give us a moment please, Agent Fear?” Osmond said.

Lilah hesitated, but slid out of the booth when Tessa gave her a reassuring nod. Tessa waited until Lilah was greeting Agents White and Davis with a hug to open her mouth.

“I hope you don’t think that makes up for the stunt you pulled earlier.”

Osmond sighed. “Scott told me to apologize.”

Oh, so it was Scott now, was it? Tessa nudged the Margarita she was nursing away and looked up at Osmond. “Did he now? For what? For nearly breaking my ribs or for humiliating me in front of my class?” 

“They don’t take your class seriously,” Osmond said. “They don’t take it seriously, because they are conditioned to rely on field agents to shield them in the event of an attack. They need to learn that they can be attacked at any time, at any place, from any one.” 

The words were said without malice, and yes, Tessa had to admit that Osmond made a valid point. But between the searing pain in her ribs and the sheer level of embarrassment Osmond had put her through, Tessa was in no mood to hear any of it.

“All I was trying to do, Osmond,” Tessa said, “was teach them a simple move.” She finished off her drink. She contemplated ordering another one -- talking to Osmond sober was about as frustrating as talking to a brick wall -- but stopped herself for Lilah’s sake. 

“God, you’re such a--” Tessa cut herself off and let out a frustrated sigh instead. “You’re a nuisance, you know that? Can’t you make our job of fostering a _Don’t be afraid of Agent Osmond_ atmosphere just a little easier?”

There was that slight tilt of the head again. “Why shouldn’t they be?”

“Why shouldn’t they be?” Tessa repeated incredulously. She looked down at the table and blinked, mulling Osmond’s words over in her mind again. All that resulted in was an involuntary puff of laughter escaping from her lips. “You know what? I don’t get you. Quite frankly, I don’t think anyone does, except Moir, because he’s nuts, and Bukin, because he strives to be just like Moir. But do the rest of us a big favor and decide which side you’re on, will you?”

Tessa pulled out two fifty dollar bills and set it on the table.

“I already charged it on my card.”

“Well, then they can thank me for a really good tip.” Tessa tucked her phone into her pocket and flashed Osmond the sweetest smile she could muster. “Let me know when you’ve made up your mind, alright?” she said, patting the back of Osmond’s hand. 

The look of pure bewilderment on Osmond’s face was enough to bring a genuine smirk on Tessa’s face as she turned on her heels and stalked away.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three weeks of healing spilled into a full two months, in no small part thanks to the lousy physical fitness of her students. With half her class needing someone to jog alongside them and prod them to do “just one more” push up and the other half of them missing the kick pad and knocking the wind out of their partners, Tessa’s days were spent playing cheerleader and nurse to her group of disgruntled kindergartners. By the time the week of graduation rolled around, Tessa was tempted to stamp a fat, red ‘F’ on all of their files. 

Meanwhile, Moir and his two strays were sent off to Johor Bahru. Tessa fervently hoped spending two weeks cramped up in close quarters with two of the happiest people in headquarters would rub off on Osmond, though she didn’t have high hopes. 

“The only thing you can change is yourself” is what her late grandmother would’ve advised, so Tessa used those precious fourteen days to turn her own attitude around. As soon as she was cleared to do so, she took out any pent up frustration she had on Osmond on the punching bags. 

“I’m going to get over this shit, come hell or high water,” Tessa stated on day sixteen of her path to becoming a model team player. 

“That’s the spirit, T,” Lilah croaked. She was one of latest victims of the recent flu epidemic that swept through the Academy and arrived at headquarters just last week. Frowning, Tessa plucked the thermometer out of Lilah’s mouth. No fever, thank god. Tessa was beginning to think it was never going to break. 

After retrieving a glass of water for Lilah, Tessa flicked all of the lights off except for the lamp on her nightstand and tucked herself into bed with a book. No less than three hours after she was in deep slumber, the eerie presence of an stranger in her house jolted Tessa awake. By the time Lilah’s door clicked shut, Tessa had her gun pointed at the intruder.

“Osmond,” Tessa said, voice dangerously low. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Surprise flickered across Osmond’s face. Her hand slipping from the door knob, Osmond padded towards Tessa, her footsteps light and dangerous. Tessa’s gun followed the assassin as she detoured to look at the photos Lilah had hung on the hallway. It was one of her and her sisters. Tessa had never met either of them but was aware that one was a field agent and the other a student at the Academy.

Osmond crossed her arms over her chest. “I came to leave a note.”

Lowering her gun, Tessa peeked into Lilah’s room to be sure Osmond hadn’t strangled her roommate in her sleep. “So you’re not here to take me out in my sleep?”

“If I wanted you dead, you already would be.”

“Remind me again why you’re at my house at--” Tessa squinted her eyes at the clock--”four in the morning?”

“I’m going to the gym.” Osmond paused. There was mild discomfort in her eyes, and Tessa got the feeling she really would have preferred sticking a post-it note on the fridge to whatever this nonsense was. “I was wondering if you would like to join me.”

“The gym.” Tessa reiterated. She blinked. Was Osmond saying… “You want to train together?”

“I took you out pretty easily in front of your class,” Osmond shrugged. 

Tessa scowled at the unnecessary reminder. 

“But,” Osmond continued, “your form is better than mine. You can throw a mean punch.” She shifted so that her shoulder was leaning against the wall. “I was thinking we could swap notes.”

Tessa was still half-convinced her subconscious was making this entire interaction up and was too baffled by the compliment Osmond had tossed her way to formulate any sort of a response. 

Osmond watched her expectantly. The ball was in Tessa’s court now.

“I’ll think about it,” Tessa said. 

“Fair enough.”

“Use the front door.”

Rolling her eyes, Osmond slipped out of the house as silently as she’d arrived. Tessa stood in the hallway for several minutes, her fingers still wrapped around her gun and mind disheveled from the unexpected visit. Exhaling slowly, she retreated back to her bedroom and put her gun away, double checking that the safety was on. 

Tessa stared up at the ceiling with her blanket pulled up to her chin. The conversation she’d just had with Osmond played in her head repeatedly. Was the assassin serious? Or was this another one of her ploys? For months, the Head of Operations as well as the Directory himself had pushed for Osmond to conduct a class, and she’d refused every single time, no matter what bribery they offered. Hell, even Moir didn’t get private lessons from her. So why Tessa, of all people?

Tessa bolted up, her legs stretched out in front of her, as the realization finally hit her: Osmond was extending an olive branch the only way she knew how. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, Tessa weighed her options. It’d be rude to turn down the apology, she supposed. After all, hadn’t her mission for the past three weeks been to let go of her silly resentment? Plus, training with Osmond was a golden opportunity that was too good to pass up. If Tessa wanted to be the best, she had to at least _try_ to beat the best. 

Osmond didn’t even glance her way when Tessa walked into the gym half an hour later. Gracefully, the assassin rose from her cat stretch. Tessa set her towel and water bottle next to Osmond’s gym bag. 

“Two conditions.” 

Osmond peered up with her hair tie between her teeth. Her hands were busy braiding her hair back. 

“First of all, no repeat performance of that stunt you pulled in front of my class.”

Tessa was glad the hair tie in Osmond’s mouth meant the younger woman wasn’t able to make some smart-ass remark in retaliation. 

“And secondly, show some emotion once in a while. Happy, smug, angry, I don’t care. Just something other than _that_.” 

Osmond snorted. She finished off her tight braid, which Tessa was fairly certain could be a weapon itself, and secured it with her black hair tie. She walked right up to Tessa, blinked innocently, then _beamed_ , complete with crescent shaped eyes and a slight scrunch of the nose. “Happy?”

“Real cute, Agent Osmond. Real cute. I can see why Moir keeps calling you Kitty.” Tessa ducked into the boxing ring before Osmond could burn her to the ground with her glare. 

“Since I’m going to be beating the crap out of you--”

“Oh is that so?”

“--we might as well drop the titles.” Osmond extended her hand out. “Kaetlyn.”

Tessa eyed the hand wearily. “Tess--” she started to say. But the instant she shook hands with Kaetlyn, the woman flipped Tessa over and had her pinned to the ground in a second. 

“What?” Kaetlyn smirked. “Didn’t see that coming, Tessa?”

Tessa groaned. This was going to be fun.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The scent of coffee lured Tessa out of the slumber she hadn’t realized she had slipped into. She almost knocked the cup of coffee Bukin was holding under nose when she lifted a hand to rub her eyes. 

“Good morning,” he grinned. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” 

Accepting the piping Starbucks cup, Tessa scanned the training room. There hadn’t been anyone other than herself and Kaetlyn when she’d dozed off forty minutes ago, but now, the treadmills were running and the punching bags were being beaten up by the early risers. Bukin reached into a brown paper bag and tossed her a chocolate croissant. It landed right on her lap. 

Tessa took a sip of her coffee and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was what she would’ve ordered for herself. A capital ‘T’ was written on the side of the cup. 

Bukin’s eyes twinkled. “Who do you think?” he answered in response to her unasked question. He pulled out a muffin for himself and took a large bite. “Did Moir tell you you’re on our team yet?” 

Tessa’s head snapped up. “What?” 

Rather than elaborate on the bombshell of a news he just dropped on her, Bukin turned around to shout across the gym. “Katya!” was all Tessa caught. The rest was in Russian. 

Kaetlyn sauntered over to them with way too much coordination and elegance for someone that had been working out every muscle in her body for the past two and a half hours. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she purred, bringing her own cup of coffee to her lips. “How was your nap?” She took one look at Tessa’s bewildered face and nudged Bukin on the shoulder. “Scott’s not going to be happy,” she chirped.

“Scott’s not going to be happy about what?” Moir approached them with his own mouthful of pastries. A punching bag was resting on his shoulder, and really, it was a crime how good he looked at six in the morning. Setting down the punching bag on the ground, Scott’s eyes flickered between the three agents before him. An accusing finger then came up. “Ok, which one of you ruined the surprise?” 

Bukin shook his head and mouthed _Not me_ rather comically, while Kaetlyn blew on her coffee. Tessa got the impression the two bonded over messing with Moir on a regular basis. 

“So,” Tessa addressed Moir as he plopped himself on the ground next to her, “I heard I’m on your team.”

She couldn’t believe she’d flat out accused Kaetlyn of being emotionless just a few hours ago, because now, the girl was snickering in Bukin’s ear like a teenager. 

Moir cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, you are. We’re taking off as soon as your class graduates at the end of the week. I know it’s sooner than you expected, but we’re going after some pretty pesky individuals, and I wanted the best--” He stopped to glare at Bukin and Kaetlyn who were now openly making fun of Moir about something-- “the best agents on my team.”

Tessa blinked. “Right,” she said for lack of a better thing to say. “Well, I look forward to working with you again.”

Moir actually blushed. He’d gotten a lot shyer over the couple of months, apparently. “Likewise.” 

“God help us,” Bukin groaned into Kaetlyn’s ear. Moir turned a deeper shade of scarlet and shot the two a warning look.

Kaetlyn grinned. “God help us _all_.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I hope you're all having an amazing week so far!
> 
> First off, I'm sorry I took so long to update. I didn't have much internet and/or computer access over the past two weeks or so; plus, this chapter ended up being _much_ longer than I thought it would be. It was a blast to write, nonetheless, and I'm excited to share it with you guys! 
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments in the previous chapter. Your comments are always so lovely to read, and I'm thrilled to hear that many of you are enjoying this story so far. 
> 
> Thank you for still sticking around! I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

Spying was often very unglamorous work. Unlike in the movies, it involved way more waiting around in abandoned warehouses and napping in moldy, old motel rooms than paying a visit to luxurious hotels with casinos and an unlimited platter of martini. There was also a shit ton of paperwork, hence why Tessa was currently glaring at a pile of paper in the middle of the cafeteria, nursing the sorry slush of brown liquid headquarters liked to call coffee. 

She’d returned to headquarters a little over 24 hours ago after spending two weeks in cramped quarters in Hong Kong with Moir and his two strays. The mission itself had gone smoothly. In fact, they’d even had time to pay a visit to Disneyland, though they had squandered the opportunity to put Mickey ears on Kaetlyn’s head. Still, it had been hot and sticky, and between having to deal with Kaetlyn’s reckless jumping-out-of-the-window nonsense and the rugrats’ never ending childish antics, Tessa felt as though she’d aged about ten years. She was sorely tempted to request permission to change the team’s name from Strike Team Quebec to Strike Team Mary fucking Poppins. Screw the NATO phonetic alphabet. What these people needed was a nanny.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tessa caught the lunch crowd part. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was, but she did anyways. It would be rude not to, seeing as said person was sauntering right towards her, wheeling a suitcase in one hand and holding an envelope in the other.

“Going somewhere?” Tessa asked. She hadn’t heard anything about getting time off, but she supposed they might be able to procure a day or two. All of the missions they’d been on in the past eight months had gone well. They deserved a day off.

Kaetlyn’s smirk was subtle but spoke volumes. “The gym” was the answer Kaetlyn provided in sync with her letting the envelope slip out of her fingers. It fluttered onto Tessa’s miserable stack of paperwork. “Have fun,” she whispered before disappearing into the lunch crowd. It sent shivers up Tessa’s spine.

The first thing Tessa did upon tossing her despicable beverage away was tearing open the envelope. In it was a single plane ticket to France. Tessa then glanced down at the suitcase she had been given along with the suspicious ticket. It was locked. Of course it was.

She left the suitcase in her office for peace of mind, but Kaetlyn’s words followed Tessa all the way home. _Have fun_ , Kaetlyn had said. Doing what? There had been substantial improvement in their relationship over the past couple of months – it turned out that seeing each other in various states of undress had a tendency to do that – but they were certainly not at the stage where they were sending each other on surprise vacations. Maybe Kaetlyn had been more pissed than Tessa had anticipated when she’d gotten on her case for catapulting herself out a glass window and had decided to silence her once and for all. 

Tessa scoffed at the memory as she stirred the pasta sauce she and Lilah were making for dinner. The mission had been over – Kaetlyn had extracted the data they needed from the computer and had taken out all of the security guards on her way into the lab. All she’d had to do was walk out of the lab and meet the rest of the team. _Walk_ , as in use her two feet to exit the lab using the exact path she’d taken to enter. But instead, the woman had launched herself out the glass window. She’d also managed to soften the landing by rolling and was up and bolting for the door in less than a second. If that wasn’t evidence that she was some demonic cat disguised as a human, Tessa didn’t know what was.

So yes, Tessa may have asked why Kaetlyn had found the need to do that. 

“What’re you thinking about?” 

Tessa blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. She’d been stirring the sauce for too long, apparently, seeing as Lilah had switched off the stove for her. Clearing her throat, Tessa tapped the wooden spoon against the rim of the pot. Chunks of tomato plopped back in. 

“I was just thinking about all of the nasty paperwork I have to do. I don’t know how I’m supposed to explain Disneyland to Accounting.” Tessa slid the plates of pasta towards the pot. She glanced over at Lilah as she did so. Her roommate seemed to be in a good mood, so she decided to take her chances. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know what Kaetlyn put down on her report, would you?” 

“You know, I don’t know why y’all don’t just make a WhatsApp group and get your stories straight. It would certainly make _my_ life easier.”

Tessa tip-toed around Lilah to set the plates of pasta on the table. “Is that a no?”

“She didn’t submit it yet. But she tends to use a lot of flowery vocabulary that warrant a dictionary, so…” Lilah trailed off, waving her hands around instead of finishing her sentence. “Don’t bother lying, though. Agent Moir already submitted his report, and he was very honest.” She smirked. “I didn’t know your favorite Disney Princess was Ariel.”

Tessa scowled. Perhaps what she ought to do was to describe in detail Moir’s whining that led to them going to the theme park in the first place. 

“Speaking of which,” Lilah continued, “I was going through accounting stuff for this week’s missions and noticed that quite a bit of Strike Team Quebec’s budget was spent at _La Perla_.” She further emphasized the last word with a shimmy and the waggling of her eyebrows. “What sort of ‘team building activities’ are _those_ for? Visiting the Eiffel Tower?”

Tessa busied herself with getting water from the fridge to hide her embarrassment. On one hand, she was comforted by the fact that whatever she was going to be doing in France was part of an official mission. It was a tad unsettling that she hadn’t heard anything about it yet, but that happened sometimes. Besides, she wasn’t set to leave till the day after tomorrow. Maybe she’d get the assignment tomorrow. On the other hand… La Perla?

“It’s probably for Kaetlyn,” Tessa supplied. 

It made sense. As uncomfortable as the knowledge made her, Tessa knew Kaetlyn had had to resort to luring men to their doom on at least one mission. Kaetlyn would never talk about it afterwards, but Tessa had heard everything over the comms. She could put two and two together.

As predicted, she was given the official assignment the next day, though all she was given was the confirmation that she was to board a commercial flight to Paris with the suitcase Kaetlyn had given to her. 

On her way to the airport, she was given another envelope. It contained a ticket from Paris to Nice. Taking a shuddery breath, she leaned back into the seat and forced herself to relax. As often as she’d wondered when she was going to be transferred back to desk duty or to another Strike Team, Tessa wanted nothing more than the company of her teammates now. She thought back to the last time she’d seen any of them. Blood drained from her face at the realization that she hadn’t seen any of them after they’d returned from Hong Kong, save for that short, confusing interaction she’d had with Kaetlyn at the cafeteria. The car pulled to a stop. Taking one last deep breath, Tessa opened the door. 

She managed to check the mysterious suitcase in without any trouble. She had a couple of hours to spare before her flight, so she wandered around the airport. Her eyes were on the look-out for the rest of her team the entire time.

By the time she was waiting for her connecting flight to Nice, Tessa had had enough time to mull over her situation to come to the conclusion that this had to be some sort of test. The higher ups must have wanted to see where exactly Tessa’s place was in the agency. Did she work better in a team or on her own? Did she have a skill set specific enough to be a specialist? Did she belong chained to a desk or out on the field?

Did she trust them?

She waited until most of the passengers had boarded to get on the plane herself. Smiling politely at the stewardess, Tessa scanned the aisles as she made her way to her seat. Most appeared to be tourists. Several had children with them. Others were traveling alone, such as the man in the seat next to hers. Across the aisle from him, dressed in a white polo shirt and dark jeans, was Scott Moir. 

Their eyes locked for barely a second – long enough for Tessa to confirm she wasn’t hallucinating but not long enough for anyone to suspect they knew one another. He smiled. She dropped into her seat and focused on getting her seatbelt buckled.

Neither made any attempt to communicate with one another. They were undercover, whether Tessa liked it or not, and their covers had started the second they stepped out of headquarters. She risked a quick glance across the aisle once or twice. Moir was silently reading the newspaper, stretching his legs out every so often. 

Tessa felt her shoulders relax. He could be a goofball and a total pain sometimes, but she had to give him credit where credit was due; for someone that rarely went undercover, he was surprisingly good at it. She hoped he had some idea what they were doing here. She doubted they were gifted an all-expenses paid vacation. 

The plane touched down right on time. As Moir stood up to get his bag out of the overhead compartment, he dropped a napkin onto her lap. _Driver for Pelletier_ , it said in his scrawny handwriting. She tucked the napkin into her pocket. He’d long since vanished when she looked up from her lap.

Tucking the stray strands of hair behind her ear, Tessa strolled off of the plane with all of the fake confidence she could muster. She scanned her surroundings for Moir. The suffocating panic that lodged itself in her throat when she couldn’t find him would have embarrassed her had the circumstances been different. She grounded herself by keeping her footsteps steady. Her heels sunk into the carpet of the airport floor with each step. 

The wait for her luggage at baggage claim was excruciating. It took every drop of self-control Tessa had to maintain her “woman on a business trip” façade. If the agency had sent someone to trail her with a notebook and black ballpoint pen – and she wasn’t entirely sure they hadn’t – this would be the time the agent would draw that poop emoji where her evaluation for espionage should go. Fortunately, she spotted the _Pelletier_ sign fairly quickly. The driver took her bags and led her to a black limousine parked on the curb. Already waiting for her inside was Moir.

“Moir,” Tessa greeted. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. 

Moir smiled, albeit a tad stiffly. “Hi, Virtue. How was your flight?”

“Good.” Tessa paused. Was it just her or was there worry in Moir’s eyes? Perhaps she wasn’t doing as good of a job hiding her uneasiness as she thought. Straightening her back and returning his smile, she added a nonchalant, “This is a lot more secretive than usual.” 

“The target is heavily guarded. He’s also known to investigate all of the people that enter and leave Monaco.” Hastily, he then added, “That’s probably why the other two aren't joining us this time round. Kaetlyn and Ivan have a… colorful past.” 

Monaco. So that’s where the driver was taking them. 

Moir handed a folder over to her. He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry about this, Tess. They gave me this literally ten seconds before I stepped out of the car. Didn’t even give me a proper briefing.”

Tessa flipped the folder open and was greeted with a picture of a man she’d seen up on the main screen at headquarters. Oil tycoon, but also involved in a whole concoction of other illegal activities, supposedly. The FBI had tried to launch an investigation and failed on more than one occasion. 

Tessa did a quick scan of the file. He was a gambler. That was helpful. Weaknesses always were. “We’re going to Monte Carlo, then?”

Moir nodded. “They were planning on sending Strike Team Alfa until the agent that had been trailing him noted that he seemed to have a thing for brunettes with—” he stopped to make air quotes with his fingers—“ _emerald green_ eyes.”

“That’s very specific.” 

“And fairly common,” Moir added, “so if you’re not com—” 

Tessa’s eyes snapped up from the file to shoot him a glare, and he, wisely, shut his mouth and spread his hands in a peace-keeping gesture. 

“All I’m saying,” he said slowly, “is that this is more of Kaetlyn’s thing—not yours. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being forced into—”

“I’ll be fine,” Tessa snapped. Moir raised an eyebrow, looking straight through her as always, and she let out a defeated sigh. “At least I’ll get to wear a pretty dress.”

“That you will. I don’t know what instructions Kaetlyn was given, but she’s a smart kid, so I’m sure you’re all set.” He chuckled. “She’s probably hacked the system to find out what she’s missing out on. I wouldn’t be surprised if she popped up at some point.” 

Truthfully, Tessa wouldn’t be either. “You wouldn’t happen to have the password to the suitcase, would you? It’s locked.”

His lips curled up into a mischievous grin. “I do. It’s my birthday.”

“Your birthday?”

He nodded in confirmation, a curt, cunning motion that, along with the twinkle in his eyes, set off butterflies in her stomach. 

Wow. She must’ve really been desperate for company. 

“I don’t know your birthday,” she stated matter-of-factly. Then, because it was clear that Moir wasn’t going to tell her without being asked, she added, “When is it?”

Moir crossed his arms across his chest. His grin got wider. “September 2nd.”

“0-9-0-2 then?”

“If Kaetlyn knows my birthday correctly, then yes.”

“Right.” She looked back down at her file, her eyes glazing over the words and not processing a single character. “Mine’s the 17th. Of May.” 

The confession was quiet; she wouldn’t have been sure that he’d heard her had he not chuckled and uttered a soft “I know.” It sounded more like a secret he was letting her in on rather than a statement launched to make her guilty. For some reason, that made her feel worse.

“What will you be doing?” 

Unless Kaetlyn requested assistance (which was never—the few times they’d intervened, they’d bust in there on their own accord, completely ignoring her words that she could handle the situation just fine, thank you very much), the rest of the team tended to watch her back from a distance. Bukin was usually perched up on a roof somewhere, ready to send a bullet over Kaetlyn’s shoulder should things go south. Tessa and Moir, on the other hand, were usually cramped in a van, working surveillance. But with half of their team members benched from this mission, Tessa had no idea what to expect from Moir. He was a talented sniper -- could trade positions with Bukin for fun if he wanted to, probably – but there weren’t a lot of sniper perches in a casino. Keeping an eye on the cameras then, maybe? But that would mean she’d be on her own if, _if_ , she ended up in a hotel room at the end of the night. 

Scott cracked open a water bottle and handed it over to her. “I’ll be nearby. Play some poker, maybe.” 

Their knuckles brushed, and Tessa blamed Bukin’s insistence that she had a crush on their team leader (she did _not_ ) that a bolt of lightning jolted up her arm and made her heart skip a beat. He smiled _again_. This time, it reached his eyes. He had a handsome smile, she noticed for the first time in the eight months she worked closely with him. It sounded contradictory, but it made him look like a little boy that had all the hope in the world in the palm of his hand. Maybe that’s why he did it so often. Looks could be deceiving, after all.

“I don’t know how to play poker,” she admitted. 

He hummed in consideration. “You’d be good at it.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve been told I’m an open book.”

“On the contrary, I find you _very_ difficult to read. Plus, a lot of high rollers underestimate women, especially beautiful ones. Gives you an edge.”

Tessa rolled the pendant around her neck between her fingers as the car pulled up to the hotel. “Well, maybe after the mission is over, you can teach me how to play.” 

Had she said it to anyone else, it might have sounded like an awkward attempt at flirting. Moir was her partner, though, and her team leader. Besides, he’d been nothing but professional during all of their missions and other interactions. If they were ever going to become anything more than… _this_ , it would’ve already happened by now.

“I don’t know if I’d be a very good teacher, but I’ll do my best.”

“Good thing I’m a quick learner, then.” She glanced out the window. God, they were at a nice hotel. It was intimidating as much as it was exhilarating.

“Go ahead,” Moir said, motioning towards the door that was now open. “I’ll meet you up there in a bit.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tessa made it up to her hotel room without much trouble. The instant she heard the door click close behind her, she leapt onto the bed and sunk into the large, luxurious bed, making some snow angels just to feel the silky bedsheets glide against her skin. 

She remembered the existence of her suitcase at some point and reluctantly left the bed to retrieve it. Kaetlyn did, indeed, know Moir’s birthday correctly. She had also paid a visit to some rather high-end lingerie shops. Tessa didn’t want to know how Kaetlyn had gotten the correct sizes. 

She extracted her dress from underneath the layer of lace. It was a black dress covered with intricate patterns and an open back. It was revealing, but no more than any of the other dresses she had hanging up back at home. She’d also blend right in with the other little black dresses weaving around in the room. She nodded absently. She could work with this. 

There were a series of raps on the door. Tessa waited till the person on the other side was done to confirm that it was Moir. One of the first things she’d learned when she joined the team was that any random pattern of knocks could get her very up close and personal with her teammates’ guns. It felt a bit childish at first, having a secret knock of sorts, but Tessa had quickly learned to appreciate its use.

Tessa set her dress down to open the door. Moir wandered into the room, doing a quick recon of the room in silence. His eyes flickered to the open suitcase, but its contents elicited no visible reaction from him. He checked the bathroom before heading for the balcony. Leaning his arms against the railing, he inspected the neighboring buildings. Tessa took the opportunity to finish digging through her luggage.

“Like what you see?” she asked.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him nod. “Your room is way better than mine,” he grumbled lightly. 

Tessa chuckled softly. “Well, the next time you have to lure an evil billionaire into your room, you can have the fancy suite.”

“Huh? Oh. No, I don’t care about that.” He gestured towards the bed dismissively. “I can sleep anywhere.” He nodded at the scenery. “I’m talking about your sight lines. Your sight lines are great. I could have your back almost anywhere in the immediate vicinity of the casino from here. Not a bad sniper perch either. Maybe a bit too open, but…” He shrugged.

Huh. 

“The advancement of technology, you know,” he continued. “They don’t think good sight lines are necessary since we’ve got cameras everywhere, but they forget that they can fail. The most accurate eyes are still our own.”

There was a bitterness in his voice, and Tessa sensed that there was a story behind his words. She wondered if he commanded his team from an area with nice sight lines, keeping one eye on the screen and the other out on the road, before she joined.

“I’m sure they’ll take me off your hands soon.”

He turned towards her. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you to be on my team. And I didn’t keep you by my side because I thought you needed babysitting or whatever. Wouldn’t have let you call the shots if I thought so.” He shuffled his feet. “You spot details and see angles that I miss. I learned a lot from you over the past eight months.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. “Oh,” she said, rather dumbly. “I just assumed… you work with specialists, so I thought…” Blushing, she stopped herself before she embarrassed herself further. She weighed her next words carefully. She settled on a simple “Thank you.”

“This is probably not a good time to tell you, but I’ve always had abysmal timing, so what the hell?” He was standing at the foot of the bed now with his arms crossed. “I was asked if you’d make a good senior agent. I said yes. You’ll be chained to a desk – sorry about that -- but on the bright side, you’ll be overseeing operations from HQ.” 

Tessa blinked. Moir chuckled in response. 

“That means you’re free to go after this mission, kiddo. You don’t have to deal with us idiots anymore.”

_Oh._

The idea of working desk duty – at headquarters, nonetheless – was appealing. It was the quickest way to climb the ranks, that was for sure; however, it also set off sparks of panic in her chest. The last time she’d had to sit out on a mission, Bukin had gotten a bullet lodged in his shoulder, a knife was stabbed into Kaetlyn’s thigh, and reports were that Moir had jumped on a fucking grenade. 

Tessa had yelled at Moir for fifteen minutes straight without feeling a single drop of sympathy. The other two had gotten a pass because she’d lost her voice afterwards.

“Although,” Moir continued, his teeth nibbling on his nails, “they did also ask if I’d be alright with your first assignment being our team. If you’d rather work with another team, you could, of course. I just thought…” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s up to you. We’d love to have you yapping at us through the comms—”

“I don’t _yap_.”

“—but as I said, it’s up to you. I know we can be a handful sometimes.” 

Tessa raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes?”

Moir grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Sometimes all the time.” 

“I’ll think about it.” She peered up at Moir. “We _did_ top the leaderboard at Trivia Night for 16 weeks in a row.”

“We did.”

His eyes were warm as they gazed back into hers. It warmed her heart and made it flutter, just barely. He had that affect on her sometimes. She was still half-convinced it was another side-effect of Bukin and Kaetlyn’s teasing. Fumbling for her phone, she cleared her throat. 

“I need to get ready,” she declared. She may have tossed her hair back in an attempt to look confident and not rattled by their platonic interaction. Her future self was going to find it very embarrassing.

Moir pushed himself off of the dresser. “Me too. Meet you there at nine?”

Tessa glanced at her phone to check the time. “That works.” 

With another gentle reminder that she could call off the mission whenever she wanted to, Moir left. Tessa flopped backwards onto the mattress in a daze. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tessa felt rushed, despite knowing she’d have plenty of time to get ready. The hot water felt like heaven flowing over her tense muscles, and soon, she found her mind drifting over to her conversation she had with Moir earlier. She shook her head a tad too forcefully at the realization. She had a mission to complete. Distractions were not acceptable, especially ones stemmed from herself.

After styling her hair and doing her makeup, she slipped into her dress and matching heels. Kaetlyn had left instructions on post-it notes stuck on the inside of the luggage. Tessa trusted Kaetlyn had been given instructions that at least hinted that she was packing for a mission and not a holiday with a lover and followed them closely.

_One every three drinks_ was one of the instructions. This one was pasted directly onto a red leather box and had skulls drawn on either side of the sentence. In the box was a bracelet studded with what appeared to be tiny diamonds. Tessa plucked one out experimentally and dropped it into a cup of water. It dissolved immediately. She poured it down the drain. 

That would come in handy.

There was a matching necklace, and Tessa snapped it on as she scrutinized herself in the mirror. Saving the most grounding for last, she applied a light coat of lipstick. She took a deep breath, took one last look at the photo of her mark, and exited the hotel room at quarter till nine.

The casino was crowded. Her first instinct was to look for Moir, which proved to be a difficult task thanks to the towering men buzzing around the place. She couldn’t find him anywhere. She probably should’ve come down closer to the time they were set to meet, but it was too late for regrets now. Wherever he was, he was going to be fine. She had to focus on the task at hand. Smiling gracefully as she grabbed a drink, she took a sip to calm her nerves and began her scavenger hunt for her target. 

The Oil tycoon wasn’t difficult to locate. He was making a scene at the roulette table, laughing boisterously and throwing his arms around random girls at his side. Tessa blended in and kept her distance to study him. There were two bodyguards within arms reach and three others situated within a two-mile radius. Women were throwing themselves at him, and he indulged them with some attention. Equally, though; he hadn’t singled one out yet. That was good. Her window was still open.

She must’ve been too focused on the situation at the roulette table, because she barely caught herself before she jumped at the voice behind her.

“Darn. I should’ve ordered a martini as well. What a missed opportunity.”

Slightly irritated, Tessa turned around. She got half way there before her motions screeched to a halt and the wind was knocked out of her.

Scott Moir was in a tuxedo. A proper one, too, complete with that fancy bow tie men wore in Hollywood movies. Throughout the years they’d worked together, the nicest thing she’d seen him wear was a light blue dress shirt and navy pants, and that had been on just one occasion and in passing. He’d looked fine in it--always did regardless of what he was wearing. But Scott Moir in a tuxedo was… that was something else. Her throat went completely dry, and a flicker of desire stirred from deep within. 

She probably shouldn’t take his hand and drag him upstairs to her room, right? No, absolutely not. She also shouldn’t add ripping his clothes off and shoving him onto her large, comfy bed to her elaborate plan. Oh, and she definitely wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that tub that she’d examined earlier. Nope. There were no less than 100 reasons she wasn’t supposed to cross that line, and her brain was going to remind her of it any second now. Like, for example, the fact that he was her… my god. Ok, maybe Bukin had a point. Moir’s ass _was_ nice.

A roar of applause and the tycoon’s unmistakable cackle was enough to shake Tessa to her senses. She snapped her head towards the roulette table. Her target was tossing chips into the air and getting snuggly with a blonde dressed in a red dress. 

The mission. Shit, shit, shit, shit, sh—

Moir put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off too forcefully. “I’m fine,” she snapped in response to his concern. “Actually, I’m not. I messed up. I need to go and try to fix it. I’ll look at you—I mean, I’ll see you--later. Bye.” 

He glanced over her shoulder. “Please,” he scoffed, grabbing her arm lightly. “She’s got nothing on you.” He squeezed her arm once. “Stay safe,” he whispered before he disappeared off into the crowd once more.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By midnight, the tycoon could barely keep his head upright and Tessa’s bracelet was void of diamonds. She slipped it into her purse with practiced ease and continued fawning over the poisoned man until his bodyguards came to escort him upstairs. Satisfied with her performance, Tessa strolled out of the casino and headed towards the elevators, wondering what expensive gift she should get Kaetlyn for Christmas. Throwing knives, maybe?

Moir was nowhere to be found again. _Good_ , she thought. The last thing she needed was for her mind to wander elsewhere. She hurried onto the elevator. The doors were sliding close when it stopped and started to open again. On the other side was the last person Tessa wanted to see right now, because that’s just how her life went, apparently.

“Good evening, Ma'am,” Moir greeted as he stepped into the elevator. He was staying on the same floor as her, her brain involuntarily noted. He reached up to loosen the bow tie. Tessa clenched her hands around the handrails so they wouldn’t shoot out towards the man and drag him down till his lips were on hers. 

“Hello,” she forced out. She hoped that would be the end of this interaction and that the next time she saw him would be after she dealt with the desire that was burning deep inside her, and through a screen, preferably with at least one ocean between them physically. 

“You did well tonight,” he commented. His smile was weary and his hair disheveled. 

Tessa watched as the numbers climbed up. Couldn’t they have given her a lower floor? “Thank you.”

She felt his eyes run up and down her in observation. She turned away and tightened her grip on the handrails. 

“Hey,” he said, his fingers brushing her arm lightly. “You alright? He didn’t… did he?”

“No. I mean yes. I’m fine. He didn’t do anything exceptionally disturbing.” 

“Ok.” The bell chimed, alerting them that they had reached their floor. “You did well tonight,” he repeated as they stepped off of the elevator.

“Thanks.” 

They reached his room first, and her stupid brain took note of the room number.

“Good night,” he said, fumbling for his key. 

She hesitated a moment. “Good night, Scott.” 

Kaetlyn called him Scott. So did Bukin, on occasion. However, this was the first time Tessa was referring to their team leader by his first name. It sounded about as awkward as it felt on her tongue, but she’d thought about him naked multiple times tonight; she might as well make the shift.

She all but sprinted into her room and slammed the bathroom door close behind her. There were make-up wipes in her pouch, but she splashed some ice-cold water onto her face instead. She was going crazy; she was sure of it. What she needed to do was drown herself in cold water, drink a glass of wine, and go to bed. In less than 24 hours, she’d have the option of never working with Scott again. And she should take it. Because that was the sensible thing to do. 

But she’d wanted him since Phuket, hadn’t she? And for the first time, she had him, all alone, just down the hall. She had great pride in her sensibility, but if this was the end – if this was the last time she was going to be _this_ close to him – why shouldn’t she act a bit reckless? Have a bit of… _fun_?

And with that last thought, Tessa stomped down the hall without even bothering to pat the water off her face and knocked on Scott’s door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers!
> 
> First off, thank you guys so much for all of the love and support you've been giving me (and this story) so far. Every single kudos & comment means so much to me. I usually try to reply to all of the comments, but I didn't get to this time round, so I apologize to those of you whose comments I didn't get a chance to reply to. I did read every single one of them and tried to reply to some of them. They never fail to make my day, so thank you again for taking the time to leave them! I do have better internet connection now; I'll do my best to reply to your comments more quickly this time round.
> 
> Thank you again for coming back to this story! I hope you enjoy this next chapter <3

"Captain Canuck and the Angel of Death have entered the premises.”

“Donohue,” Tessa warned.

“You’re no fun.”

She glared at him. He smirked but shut up nonetheless.

Kaetlyn and Scott were undercover in D.C., attending a fancy ball to try to corner a corrupt politician. It was a mission that was originally assigned to Strike Team Romeo. Agents Donohue and Hubbell were supposed to go in, dance around a bit, and gather some information. But they had royally screwed up their most recent mission and had been put on probation. Being forced to work surveillance with Tessa in a tiny van was supposed to be Agent Donohue’s punishment.

Honestly, it felt more like Tessa’s.

“And what about you, Bukin? Where’re you at?”

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be, Donohue,” Bukin replied dryly. “Upon a roof. Getting rained on. Covering our team’s asses.”

Kaetlyn chose that moment to turn slightly and show off the backside of her dress. Donohue blew a low whistle. “And what nice asses they are.”

“You do know we can hear you, right?” Scott said softly, irritation packed into every syllable.

Tessa couldn’t make out his expression – the cameras they were using for surveillance were shit – but it must have been obvious enough to warrant an intervention, because Kaetlyn leaned against Scott, resting her head on his shoulder, and muttered something under her breath. He smiled. She smiled back. Tessa couldn’t tell which half of the exchange made her blood boil more.

“Tell Osmond to turn her comms on,” Tessa barked.

Scott winced and brought a hand up to his own comms. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Kaetlyn’s mouth curled up into a wicked smirk. 

"Don’t you start,” Scott hissed.

“Target spotted,” Bukin said, and really, the fact that the sniper watching through a window from the building across the street was the one who spotted the target first said a lot about where Tessa’s mind was at.

“Affirmative,” Tessa said. “On your right. 4 o’clock.”

Kaetlyn placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder and glanced over to where the politician was swaying with his wife on the dance floor. “Confirmed,” she said, prying the champagne glass out of Scott’s fingers. As she turned to place both flutes on the table behind her, she switched her comms off again, and Tessa scowled.

That scowl turned deeper when Scott turned his comms off too.

Donohue tapped on the screen, like his nails could magically knock some sense into the both of them. “Hello? Guys?” He turned to Tessa. “Do they do that a lot?”

Scott’s head hung low. Using her index finger, Kaetlyn tipped it back up, took a step forward, and murmured something so close to his face that, from afar, it looked as though their lips brushed.

Donohue tapped on the screen again. He was babbling non-stop, and Tessa contemplated crushing his fingers.

Scott held his hand out to Kaetlyn. There was a pause. Then, she accepted, and the two swept onto the dance floor, melting into the crowd of twirling tuxedos and dresses effortlessly. Tessa had seen Kaetlyn dance before, but the only dancing she’d ever witnessed Scott do was more akin to the galloping of a drugged horse than a dance. Over time, she’d grown to assume he’d flubbed his way through the mandatory dance classes at the Academy.

He hadn’t, apparently. He took to the dance floor like a seasoned pro, spinning Kaetlyn around and dipping her low to the ground. At some point, the two must have turned their comms back on, because Kaetlyn’s youthful giggle accompanied the next spin.

“Did she just… _laugh_?” Donohue shuddered.

“Yes, Donohue,” Kaetlyn replied, her teeth chomped down in a fake smile. “I was thinking of all the ways I could murder you, and the mere thought brought a smile to my face.”

"Oh!” He clapped like a child on Christmas morning. “ _Please_ tell me it involves the thigh choke. Death by your thighs seems like a _fantastic_ way to go.”

Bukin mumbled something in Russian. Tessa’s Russian skills were non-existent, but she had a feeling Kaetlyn might have to get in line.

The song came to an end, and, much to Tessa’s irritation, Scott kissed the back of Kaetlyn’s hand as he bowed. They’d been flaunting the entire time to get the target’s attention, and thankfully, it worked. The politician slithered up to a Kaetlyn like a moth drawn to flame and asked for a dance. Shyly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ears, Kaetlyn accepted.

Scott was by the bar again, nursing a glass of champagne, as Kaetlyn twirled around on the dance floor, interrogating the politician without him suspecting a thing. Her voice was seductive one minute and disgustingly cute the next. She leaned into his ear and whispered something that made him cackle and give her a slobbery kiss on the cheek.

Donohue made a face. “His daughter is older than her. Also, should we be worried about the hot girl over there?” He pointed at a woman standing by the wall with the French ambassador to the U.S. “Long dress, straight hair?”

“You just described half the women in the room,” Bukin muttered.

“She’s with the French ambassador,” Tessa supplied. “Leaning against the wall, just put her hair up. She’s got a bracelet on her right hand. Studded with crystals.” She didn’t know what Bukin could and could not see from where he was, but she figured she might as well give him all the information she had.

“Russian.” Bukin hummed. “Doesn’t look suspicious.”

“She does to me,” Donohue said.

“You Americans think all Russians look suspicious.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Tessa ordered.

“Got it.”

The song came to an end. The politician bowed, and a short was had between him and Kaetlyn. She shook her head politely, flashed him one more sweet smile, and retreated to Scott’s side once more. Soon, they were on the dance floor again, this time dancing to a slightly more upbeat song.

“Did you get some good dirt?” Scott asked.

“I got enough,” Kaetlyn said. “I’ll—”

“Osmond,” Bukin suddenly spoke, and the sharpness of his tone made Tessa jump. “The Russian. Do you see her? She’s on your left. 8 o’clock.”

Tessa’s eyes scanned the screens for the woman Donohue pointed out earlier. The Russian was talking to their target now, the politician visibly drunk and shakily waving towards Scott and Kaetlyn. She smiled and offered him another drink, but his bodyguards stepped in to escort him back to his room.

Her bracelet was now gone, and she was looking into the crowd.

“Stepanova,” Kaetlyn said. The name didn’t ring a bell. It must’ve meant something to the two other members of the team, though. Scott stiffened, and Bukin cursed.

“Are you sure?” Bukin asked.

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Donohue interjected. “Who’s—”

“Shut up, Donohue,” Scott snapped. There was an audible sigh. 

“Can you make an exit without drawing attention?” Bukin asked.

“Negative,” Kaetlyn replied.

"You have to move out of her eyeline, at the very least.’

“Can’t.” This time, it was Scott that replied.

“Well, you guys have to do something.” 

The Russian – Stepanova – had her gaze held on Kaetlyn now. Instead of hiding her face, Kaetlyn simply stared right back at Stepanova. Placing her flute on a passing tray, Stepanova reached up and pulled her hair pin out. She shook her hair over her shoulders.

“I have a clear shot,” Bukin said.

“No,” Kaetlyn said. “Don’t. She isn’t going to do anything,” 

“Yeah, well, the bodyguards are,” Tessa said, looking at the top left corner of one of the screens. A bodyguard was on the phone, another two were setting the target on the ground and trying to shake him awake, and the rest were rushing down the emergency exit. “The politician isn’t looking too hot. She must’ve poisoned him. You guys need to leave. Now.”

“How?” Scott scanned the area. “There are too many dancers.”

Kaetlyn squeezed Scott’s arm. “Relax,” she murmured. She closed the distance between them   
and dropped her voice to a low rumble. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“ _Yes_.”

Satisfied with the answer, Kaetlyn enveloped Scott’s mouth in a heated kiss.

It was like witnessing a car crash. Tessa didn’t want to watch, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the torturous sight either. Kaetlyn’s arms were now wrapped around Scott’s neck, and he dipped her slightly, kissing her like newlyweds on their wedding day. Tessa wanted to throw up, which made no sense, honestly. She’d slept with the man once, then promptly declared that it could never happen again. It wasn’t like she was in love with him. Maybe this was simply the gut reaction one had when they saw two of their teammates making out in the middle of a ballroom.

Donohue clapped slowly in approval. “That’s one way to do it.”

Kaetlyn pulled back, put a sultry smile on her lips, and led Scott off of the dance floor. It looked natural, like something the two did on a regular basis. Which was fine. It wasn’t any of Tessa’s business what those two were doing during their free time.

“Nice cover,” Tessa croaked out. “We’ll come around to pick you up. Should be there in three minutes.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You want to know if I’ve slept with him before.” 

The water Tessa was gulping down went down the wrong pipe. “Jesus, Kaetlyn,” she sputtered. “How long have you been standing there?”

Kaetlyn pushed herself off of the doorframe and sauntered out into the room, patting her hair dry with a towel. 

They were spending the night in a hotel a safe distance from D.C., and, naturally, Tessa and Kaetlyn were sharing rooms. Tessa wasn’t sure how the boys had sorted their accommodation out. She sincerely hoped Donohue was the one getting the single room – she didn’t want to have to explain why Scott or Bukin had strangled the junior agent in the middle of the night. 

“Scott said it was a one-time thing.”

Of course he’d told her about Monte Carlo. “It was.”

Kaetlyn draped herself over the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. “Then what’s the problem?” She might as well have added a ‘ _dear_ ’ or a ‘ _darling_ ’ at the end.

“There is no problem. As long as it doesn’t affect your performance during missions, I don’t care what either of you do during your spare time.” And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “But maybe try not to make it too obvious.”

Kaetlyn raised an eyebrow, which was as good as a question with her, Tessa learned over the months. 

“I _have_ seen you coming out of Scott’s room in the morning, you know.” As have half of headquarters, but Tessa chose to omit that part, both to preserve her dignity and Kaetlyn’s.

A strange silence hung between them. Finally, Kaetlyn cocked her head to the side and smirked. Arching her back, she leaned towards Tessa. The fresh citrus fragrance of the hotel toiletries had a pang of spiciness to it that was oddly intoxicating and incredibly… _her_.

“You know,” she drawled, “if you want to even the playing field, you and I could always have sex.”

Tessa blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” Kaetlyn said, then she was off of the couch, peeling her shower robe off as she made her way over to her stack of clothes. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snowflakes fluttered past the windows of Scott’s room. It was a simple living space with a bed, a small desk, and a bathroom. They were built for agents returning from missions in the dead of night to get a couple of hours of sleep in, but a handful of agents were permitted pods of their own. Scott was one of them.

Tessa could feel his breath against the nape of her neck, slow and steady as he dozed off. Upon returning from D.C., she had been taken off of field duty. She now supervised missions from headquarters while the rest of the team remained out on the field. Technically, she wasn’t their handler, and oftentimes, they ran off on missions that she was not cleared to read up on. During those times, Tessa’s job was reduced to pretending she was uninterested in their whereabouts and keeping her ears open for any sign of their return. To keep her from getting too nosy, the agency dropped copious amounts of paperwork on her desk. Busywork, mostly, but it kept Tessa chained to the desk and not down in the cafeteria eavesdropping on gossip, and that’s all her bosses wanted.

“Yesterday, I had to fill out a comprehensive survey on _jello_ ,” Tessa had complained over the phone just a few hours ago.

Lilah had laughed at Tessa’s rage. “What’s there to say? It’s disgusting and is the main source of food waste here. I don’t know why they haven’t gotten rid of it yet.”

A manila file had caught Tessa’s eye just then – a mission report of a mission her teammates had been sent on several days ago. They’d returned earlier that day, physically fine but a haunted look in their eyes. Tessa had assumed it was classified.

“No idea. Something about which flavor I found the least nauseating after a concussion.”

"Oh, _that_ survey. I’m sorry to say we’re the ones that made it. You see, Dr. Rochette—”

While Lilah went on about food budgeting and the sheer variety of jello that was available in stores, Tessa had scanned the report thoroughly. It was heavily redacted – a classified mission that took an unexpected turn, perhaps – but by the time she’d bid Lilah good night, Tessa had spotted enough key words to make sense of the mission.

Twelve girls. Aged 8-11. Child prostitution. Sex trafficking.

No wonder Kaetlyn and Bukin had gone straight down to the bar.

Scott’s arm snaked beneath Tessa and pulled her close to his chest. She could’ve resisted – _should_ have resisted (shouldn’t even be here, honestly) – but she didn’t. All she did was caress the back of his hand with her thumb and let him bury his face in the crook of her neck.

God, this was going to blow up in her face one day.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Kaetlyn that Monte Carlo was a one-time occurrence. After that rather spectacular evening, she and Scott had decided that what happened in Monte Carlo had to stay in Monte Carlo. Anything otherwise would’ve been too confusing, and it would’ve wound up becoming a distraction. Someone was going to get hurt eventually or, worse, killed. 

That resolve had lasted exactly two weeks, until Scott got caught in the middle of an intense shootout in a solo mission. It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out, hence why Tessa had been in her office, acting as mission control from headquarters. The mission had gone south abruptly. Scott wouldn’t have made it out alive had Agent Lauzon not mistaken Tessa’s office for his wife’s.

It had taken a while for Scott to make it back to headquarters, but even several hours later, enough adrenaline had been pumping through both of their veins that they’d wound up having sex in the locker room. Most of Scott’s very expensive gear was damaged. Accounting had been incredibly displeased.

That, too, had been a one-time thing, until two missions later. That time, Tessa had been the one who’d nearly died when she’d taken Kaetlyn’s place on a mission for reasons that were classified. They didn’t bother taking anything off that time, including, unfortunately, their comms. Tessa still couldn’t look Bukin in the eye.

Both occasions, Tessa rationalized, were results of a burst of adrenaline and the dire need to feel alive. It was pure instinct.

Heaven knew what illogical nonsense her brain was going to come up with to explain tonight.

Tessa startled at the feeling of Scott’s eyelashes brushing against her skin. She rolled over so she was facing him.

“Can’t sleep?” she murmured.

Scott flopped onto his back. “Yeah,” he sighed. He ran a hand over his face. “Today was just…”

“I know.”

She didn’t, not really. He’d muttered that seeing those girls had reminded him of Kaetlyn several hours ago, while he was still tipsy. Tessa knew very little about what happened in the hours immediately preceding that unforgettable first meeting between her and Kaetlyn, but she’s heard enough from other agents in passing to have a general idea of what went down between the assassin and the spy. A ruthless rooftop battle didn’t seem to have much in common with today’s mission. Tessa knew better than to push, though. She was mortified by the report. She could only imagine how horrifying it must’ve been for the people that had seen the girls in person.

She stroked his cheek. “That’s why I’m here. Thought you might need some company.”

He shuffled up until his head was resting awkwardly against the headboard. He looked down at Tessa solemnly. “I did. Need your company, I mean.” There was a pause. “Tessa, what we’re doing, it’s… I don’t think it’s a one-time thing.”

“No,” Tessa agreed. “I don’t know if it ever was.”

He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “What are we doing, T?”

She had no idea. She knew it worked, this fragile, dangerous relationship they had going on. But she didn’t know what to call it. Friends with benefits? No, that didn’t seem right. The comfort she sought in him went beyond sex. Boyfriend and girlfriend? That sounded… better. But it was a large commitment – one she wasn’t sure she wanted to spring onto him or herself right this moment.

“Do we have to put a label on it?”

“I suppose not,” he said after a while. “But it might help if we set some… rules. Just so we’re aware where the boundaries are. Like… like…”

“No calling me Tutu out in the field.”

Scott burst out laughing. Tessa smacked him in the rib cage with her palm.

“No giving me special treatment when you’re calling the shots,” he said, his voice serious all of a sudden.

The thought of possibly having to put him in a dangerous situation for the safety of everyone else made Tessa’s heart drop to her stomach. “Oh, so you listen to my orders now?” she joked.

“I’m serious, Tess.”

“I know.” She traced circles on his chest. “I won’t. Anything else?”

He hesitated a bit before speaking. “You can be with other people. I promise they won’t be found dead in a dark ally or anything like that. And I’ll make sure Ivan and Kaetlyn are on their best behavior if you ever happen to – _when_ you, because you’re, you know… _you_ – date someone. I mean, it’s probably best that we keep things between us, but Ivan already heard us and Kaetlyn probably knows because she’s… Kaetlyn, and –”

Tessa silenced him by pressing her lips to his. And then, as abruptly as she’d bolted up, she flopped back down. She stared up at the ceiling. “You’re the only man I want,” she declared softly, and boy did it feel good and foreign to say those words out loud. “And I don’t know if I can promise the same of any other woman you sleep with.”

“I didn’t realize that was your style.”

“It’s not.”

Scott slid down and propped himself up on his elbow. His fingers traced her jaw. “Good thing you’re the only one I want, then.”

_What about Kaetlyn?_ she wanted to ask. She bit her tongue before the words could fly out of her mouth, though. Never in the years she’d known Scott did Tessa question his honesty, and it seemed rather childish of her to question it right this moment. He wasn’t the type of person to lie to a woman to get in her pants. In fact, he wasn’t the type of man who’d pursue a woman just to get in her pants either.

So Tessa kept her hands busy with the loose strings of her shirt and said, “Kind of sounds like we’re dating.”

“I thought you didn’t want to put a label on things.”

“I asked if we had to put a label on it,” she murmured. “That’s not the same thing.”

"Dating. I like that." 

The next words that rolled off of her tongue were utterly terrifying to hear out loud. "Me too."

He hummed, wrapped both arms around her, and rolled them over so that she was on top of him. “Since it doesn’t seem like either of us are going to be sleeping any time soon…”

“Isn’t Kaetlyn in the next room?” Tessa whispered. Her actions mismatched her question; she braced herself above him, grinning.

“We can be quiet.” Tessa raised an eyebrow, and he flipped them over. Tessa squealed. “Don’t worry,” he said against her lips. “She can’t hear us.”

Right on cue, Scott’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He flipped it open to reveal a text message from Bukin.

**_Yes, we can, you idiots_** , it read.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated. Please feel free to shoot me a message on tumblr (@philosophronia) as well, if that's more comfortable for you :)


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